


Touch of Grey

by DogStar234



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Family Drama (Harry Potter), Brothers, Emotional Bonds, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Gen, Harry Is Trying His Best, M/M, Mentors, Regulus Black Lives, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Walburga Black's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22408996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DogStar234/pseuds/DogStar234
Summary: A grownup Harry Potter falls into an alternate universe. He helps Dumbledore defeat Voldemort, and finds himself teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts to his parents and a Slytherin Sirius Black, whose magic strangely seems suited to his own.Getting through the year may prove tougher than defeating the Dark Lord.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & James Potter, Harry Potter & Lily Evans Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Comments: 304
Kudos: 1520
Collections: did someone say time travel





	1. Chapter 1

Harry startled when Fawkes landed in his lap. “Hi there,” he said gently, running his hands down his majestic feathers.

Dumbledore chucked. “I’d be jealous of how much my familiar has taken to you, if I wasn’t just as impressed these past few months.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Harry said softly, touched.

“Albus, please, you know that I was never your Professor, as much as I resemble the man who was like a mentor to you,” Albus said, his ice-blue eyes sharp. “Now, have you given any more thought to my offer? I think you’d make a brilliant professor, and I've quite selfishly grown quite accustomed to your company.”

Harry nodded, staring at Fawkes instead of Albus, not wanting look him in the eyes. “Yes---and I don’t think it’s a good idea. The people who could be my parents and their friends in this universe should enjoy their final year at Hogwarts without me being a distraction to them, especially now that Voldemort’s gone.”

Albus sat up a little straighter in his armchair. “Do you know why I’ve stayed at Hogwarts, even on the rare occasion where I wanted to leave?”

Harry shook his head.

“Because after my father went to Azkaban, it was truly the only place that ever felt like home to me. I loved Hogwarts and it loved me, and I feel like you have the same true affection for the inside of this castle’s walls as I do,” Dumbledore said.

“It was my home too,” Harry confirmed, meeting his eyes.

“I can tell, you learn a thing or two after your first century,” Dumbledore said, winking at him. “Of course I'm here because Hogwarts is my home, but I'm also blessed that Ariana and Aberforth chose to set up The Hogs Head so close to here as well, I can be close to their complementary magic whenever I need it. That's helped me stay here for so long too.”

“Sir,” Harry said, instead of telling Dumbledore that Ariana was dead where he came from, he asked another question instead. “In my universe, I don’t think complementary magic is a thing.”

“No? It tends to run in families, muggleborns can find it with their dearest friends, romantic partners or if they decide to have them, their children. You’ve never felt you magic sing when you’re near another person?” Dumbledore asked, stroking his beard.

Harry thought of Ron and Hermione, but friendship was its own kind of magic. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s a gift,” Albus said. “And as we don’t know if the Unspeakables or myself will ever be able to find a way to get you back to your universe, I don’t want you discounting the gift magic gave us, I want you to have all the gifts available to you.”

Harry read between the lines. “What, so I should befriend my teenage parents so my magic feels more settled?”

“Or you could change your mind about meeting Euphemia and Fleamont Potter and settle in with your grandparents, but I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do, Harry,” Albus said kindly.

Harry snorted, that’d be a first. Fawkes startled at his snort, and flew back to his perch, giving him an offended look that made him laugh at the absolute absurdity of it all.

“You’re barely a quarter-century, and brilliant and brave, and I don’t like to think of you being alone,” Albus carried on. “Stay, Harry.”

“Alright,” he agreed, as if he was ever able to tell him no and mean it. “How have I been here for three months and not been told about complementary magic?”

“I imagine the same way no one has told you how to hold a wand or ride a broom or find the north star in the sky, I assume,” Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling.

“Do you die without it?”

“No, Harry, but it’s very lonely,” Albus said. “Not that he cared about such a thing, but I think Tom marked his Death Eaters so he could have constant access both to their location as their lord and also twisting their magic so it was more complementary to his.”

“Or he was just psychopathic,” Harry muttered, reminded of his first encounter with this universe’s Voldemort. He was still in St. Mungo’s after his accident, just readying to leave, when he heard shrieks of terror and the distinctive green light of the killing curse. The war and Voldemort had found him again, even in this strange universe with complementary magics and a Dumbledore much less burdened with guilty.

“As you say,” Albus replied, and conjured him up a beautiful crystal wineglass, pouring him an ice-cold glass of butterbeer.

“Albus, is our magic complementary?”

“Dear boy, I value our friendship and your kindness to me, but it isn’t. You didn’t trust your universe’s version of me enough, and who can blame you, he set you on a path that led to you sacrificing your life,” Albus said, his voice low.

“I forgave you,” Harry replied, suddenly embarrassed by the force of Dumbledore’s stare.

“Ah, but did I ever forgive myself?” Albus asked.

“I don’t know sir,” Harry replied, lost in thought.

“Our magic isn’t complementary, you’ll know when you find it,” Dumbledore said kindly after a moment, and Harry wished he had any idea what he was talking about.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next week, at the Welcoming Feast, Harry’s eyes scanned over the Gryffindor table. This universe’s James Potter was laughing about something with Lily Evans, her red hair shining brightly, lit by the candles over the Great Hall.

She was so beautiful and alive that it hurt, his heart beating too fast in his chest. Mum, a long-dead part of him wanted to cry out.

Next to James was Remus, looking tired but happy. Wormtail was next to him, looking very young and innocent. Harry still couldn’t stand to look at his face.

He couldn’t spot Sirius though, and felt his heart sink for a moment. Was this universe devoid of his godfather in the same way Ariana Dumbledore lived?

He felt some hostile stares coming from the Slytherin table, and turned to look.

A terribly young Severus Snape turned his head away from him, not wanting to get caught, probably wanting his own look at the man who vanquished Voldemort along with Dumbledore.

But two seats over, a familiar face stole all his attention. Seated toward the end of the table, looking very alone in green-and-silver was Sirius Black. His brother was seated next to him, the pair of them looking distinctly unhappy.

He supposed Sirius was trying to project a haughty sort of aloofness, but Harry could see the loneliness behind the mask.

“Sirius Black is in Slytherin?” he whispered to Dumbledore.

Albus turned his sharp blue eyes on him. “The whole lot of them, for centuries, yes.”

“He wasn’t a Death Eater, was he? I didn’t see him, in our raid on Malfoy Manor, I would have recognised his magic,” Harry said quietly. It would have stung like the Cruciatus to have to fight on opposing sides to his godfather, alternate-universe and all.

“I’m quite sure he wasn’t a Death Eater. He doesn’t associate with them, and we’ve never seen him loudly espouse pureblood ideology. Young Mr. Black mostly keeps to himself,” Dumbledore replied.

“That sounds lonely,” Harry said, his mind drifting to a photo he saw of his parents wedding. Sirius was best man, the two of them were like brothers, Sirius so proud as he helped fix James’s wedding robes. “Is he a good student?”

Minerva McGonagall chimed in. “Top of the class in transfiguration, him and James Potter compete for the best marks. They’re some of the most brilliantly gifted and creative students I’ve seen in all my years of teaching.”

“Do they get along?” Harry asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“Their rivalry is cordial, but like Albus said, Mr. Black keeps to himself,” Minerva said.

“No man is an island,” Harry said, quoting something Hermione had told him once.

“Every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main,” Dumbledore replied, a farway look in his eyes. “Poetry is its own magic!”

Harry nodded, and met Dumbledore’s eyes.

_“Harry, I don’t have to be a genius to realise that Sirius was important to you in your world?” Dumbledore asked, using legilmency to speak directly into his mind._

_Harry nodded, rifling through his memories to show Dumbledore some of it. He picked Christmas of his Fifth year, Sirius in good spirits, ruffling his hair, singing Christmas carols and drinking mulled wine, making him feel the most cherished person in the room and feeling like he had a family, even just for a day._

_“I see,” Dumbledore said. “Be careful, Harry?”_

_“Careful, how?”_

_“I may be old now, but trust that I know all about handsome young men from Dark Families,_ ” Dumbledore said, before closing off his mind from Harry.

He flushed, and went back to his meal, and tried to not stare at any of the students. He didn’t know how he could make it through a full year of this.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sirius felt his baby brother elbow him. “What is it, Reggie?”

“The new Defense professor is staring at you,” Regulus whispered, tearing into his roast with his usual nervous energy.

Sirius whipped his head around toward the staff table, Professor Potter turned away a little too quickly. “Maybe he’s trying to decide if we’re Dark Lords in training, and take us out next,” he suggested.

“Sirius!” Regulus moaned, his tone long-suffering as usual. “He’s powerful, you shouldn’t talk about him like that.”

“Unless he has an eavesdrop jinx on the Slytherin table, I’ll say what I like,” he muttered, feeling bold, stabbing viciously at a roast potato with his knife before spearing it into his mouth.

“Maybe he does. I heard he’s one of Potter’s ancestors from Merlin’s time, and Mulciber told me on the train that he’s absorbed the Dark Lord’s powers,” Regulus whispered, his face only passing a little judgement at his poor table manners.

“I’m sure that’s rubbish, and Mulciber is a little creep whom you should stay well clear of,” Sirius replied, turning his head to glare at Mulciber.

Sirius’s shoulder ached, a phantom pain of the bone-breaker hex Mulciber sent his way last year after denying another invitation from Bellatrix to come meet Voldemort.

He didn’t know how many more invitations he could turn down before getting killed, now he would never have to know that. Thanks to Dumbledore and their Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

Severus caught his eye instead, in one of his brief respites from staring forlornly at a particular ginger over at the Gryffindor table. “Your brother is right, this…new Potter isn’t an enemy you’d want to make if he was powerful enough to defeat the Dark Lord.”

Sirius sighed, and took another sip of his pumpkin juice. “Evans isn’t going to forgive you just because Voldemort’s gone, and you won’t convince her with your pathetic little looks at her.”

Severus turned an even more unattractive shade of pale. “Mind your business, Black.”

“How can I when you’re putting me off my meal with your pining?” Sirius snipped, shutting Severus up—at least for the moment.

Severus had a look on his face that promised revenge, and Sirius reminded himself to double-check the wards on his bed before going to sleep that night. One could never be too careful in the dungeons. The Black name could only protect him to a small extent, and he hated everything it stood for.

Sirius turned to look back at the Head Table. Professor Potter wasn’t old, mid-twenties if he had to guess, with a messy head of black hair that did look quite like James Potter’s.

His back was ramrod straight, as if he was holding himself so tightly that if he exhaled too hard he might fall apart.

There was a lighting-bolt shaped scar on his forehead that told of some dark magic, like he’d seen action, but of course he had. Vanquisher of Voldemort and all.

Professor Potter looked over and caught his eye, but he didn’t look away.

He actually smiled at him, a clear, open gaze with something like affection in his vivid green eyes. He looked at him like he knew him, and Sirius finally turned away. No one knew him.

“He is staring at you!” Regulus said again, his gray eyes very wide, making him look younger than fifteen.

“You’re right,” Sirius conceded, and waved cheekily to the professor, making his face colour in a way that….wasn’t unattractive. It would be an interesting year.


	2. Chapter 2

It was getting late, and Harry heard a knock on his door. He grabbed his wand and looked through the spyhole in the portrait. He saw no one for a second before James appeared in front of his eyes, a very familiar priceless silver cloak over his shoulders.

James paced in front of the door, ruffling his messy hair, an anxious, six-foot tall ball of nervous energy and frenetic magic.

Harry opened the door, and took a deep breath. He was twenty-five, he was an Auror and now a Professor, he had defeated Voldemort twice, he could do this. He exhaled.

“Hello Professor Potter,” James said, meeting his eyes bravely. “Can I say something?”

“You already are,” Harry replied, unable to stop from making the dumb joke, but waved his hand, letting James Potter say what he had to.

“Right,” James exhaled, taking a deep breath, clearly drawing on his courage. “Since you’ve appeared, all everyone does is talk about you. But I want you to know that I don’t care if you’re my dead grandfather reincarnated or an ancestor’s fling with Morgana or my descendent far into the future, or maybe even my illegitimate half-brother, no matter how furious I’d be at my Dad for hurting Mum like that, especially since she’s been sick lately. But I want you to know that whatever circumstances brought you here, you’re a Potter and my family, and I’d like a chance to get to know you,” he said, voice unwavering.

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Thank you, James. Why don’t you come on in?” he offered, and it was a Herculean task to keep his voice steady.

James nodded, and walked into his living area, his eyes scanning around the room before Harry closed the portrait hole behind them. The living space was spartan, just a few comfy chairs, a coffee table, and a tea set that Albus had ‘borrowed’ from the Hog’s Head for him. It had none of his personality or life in it, and Harry wondered what James saw in the room, and in him.

“I’m not your half-brother, I don’t want you angry at your father for something he didn’t do,” Harry said firmly, feeling a very sudden need to clear up this misconception.

James exhaled, and Harry watched the tension bleed out of his shoulders. “I’m glad! Not that I err—didn’t always want a brother. Because I did, but you know, my Mum’s actually the best person in the world. So.”

“It’s alright,” Harry said kindly.

James shifted on his feet, and Harry was struck by how young he was. “Speaking of Mum, she taught me to be polite and giving and I know I’ve failed a whole lot on that front, but I made you something? I’m sorry if it’s an imposition, but I felt my magic telling me that I should do this, so I have a gift for you.”

Harry watched as James opened up his school bag and pulled out a shining copper vase, with vibrant ruby red stripes running up and down the sides in an intricate pattern. It was beautiful.

“Here,” James said, passing it over to him. “For your new home.”

“It’s wonderful,” Harry said, taking it from his outstretched hands. The vase felt almost alive to him, he could feel the magic used to craft it, it warmed his hands and made the room feel oddly more like home. “Did you transfigure it?”

“I did, yeah,” James said proudly.

“McGonagall said you and Sirius were some of her best students,” Harry offered, walking to put the vase on his wooden little coffee table.

James all but beamed at him. “Ah, yeah, Minnie loves me.”

Harry laughed, a little amused at his arrogance, and felt like showing off as well. He grabbed his wand and wordlessly conjured some white hyacinths to go in his new vase. The spell felt stronger and deeper than usual, conjuring flowers wasn’t difficult, but he turned to look at James, whose mouth was open and whose hazel eyes flecked golden for a few seconds.

“Oh wow,” James whispered, swaying on his feet for a moment. “Your magic is powerful, Professor. What I felt…wow.”

“Call me Harry,” he said, holding out his wand-hand for James to shake, and when he did, he felt it again, the strange connection between them.

“Thank you Harry,” James said when he let go of his hand. “For accepting my gift, I mean.”

“Of course,” Harry replied, and startled himself when he turned to look again at the vase. The flowers had taken on a warm golden gleam to them, like a little nightlight.

“Wow,” James repeated for the third time, whistling at the end. “We’re not brothers you said, but our magic does seem to recognise each other.”

“It’s a gift,” Harry wondered aloud, remembering Dumbledore’s words to him.

“That’s what Mum and Dad always say, yeah,” James replied. “So, Harry? If my Dad’s not your Dad, is the Morgana story true?”

Harry laughed at how quickly ministry rumours became legend.

“Right, none of my business, I get it,” James said, before a very loud yawn escaped his lips.

Harry snickered. “Maybe you should take that invisibility cloak of yours and sneak on back to Gryffindor Tower so you’re not too tired for the first day of classes tomorrow.”

“How do you know about my cloak?” James wondered before finishing his own question. “Oh, Potter ancestor, right, sure. But just so you know, I’m Head Boy this year, so it’s not sneaking. I’m allowed out after curfew.”

“If you say so,” Harry said, the corners of his lips turning up in amusement. “You and the Head Girl—Lily Evans?”

“Yeah,” James confirmed, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Are you two..?” Harry wondered aloud.

“She’s agreed to go to Hogsmeade with me, I can't believe I'm this lucky,” James said, a light blush on his tan skin.

Harry nodded, filing that information away, and stood up. “Right, thanks again for the gift James.”

“Of course,” he said, and waved a cheeky goodbye as Harry ushered him out of his quarters. Once James was gone, Harry collapsed on his sofa, staring at the vase. It was still glowing, and Harry let his magic reach out toward it, comforted by the way their magics worked together.

Albus could sometimes speak in poetry and riddles, but he wasn’t exaggerating at all when he called this a gift.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the darkest part of the evening, just before the dawn, and Sirius felt a tug at his magic. He scrambled awake, and took a deep breath. It wasn’t an emergency. He calmed himself down, tried to make his heart stop racing. It did after a few moments.

He grabbed his wand and weighed whether it was worth it to walk into the Slytherin fifth-year dorms. His brother’s magic needed him, but the dungeons didn’t tolerate weakness. Big brothers showing up to help might be fine in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, but not here, not now, not after everything was so up in the air.

Sirius sighed, and headed up the stairs to the common room, bringing a blanket with him. He paused to cast golden and blue sparks with his hand, a little flashy trick he could do since he was five, his magical signature loud and steady to anyone who could feel him. But there was only one person who would ever reply.

He sat down on the sofa and only had to wait a few minutes before Regulus arrived, dark shadows under his gray eyes. “Come here, brother,” Sirius said.

Regulus looked around for a moment.

“For Merlin’s sake Reggie, it’s four-thirty in the bloody morning, no one will see us,” Sirius grumbled, his voice rough with sleep. And Regulus listened, hurrying over to the sofa and sitting down next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

Regulus set off sparks as well, molten silver to complement his gold, opening up his magic to him, and Sirius felt his brother’s magic settle into his own, a deep well of power and strength between the pair of them.

“Thank you,” Regulus said quietly, after a moment.

“Better?”

“Much,” Regulus replied, closing his eyes, his magic still entwined with his.

“Was it the lake again?” Sirius asked, so familiar with the drowning nightmares that had plagued Regulus for years.

Regulus shook his head. “I’ve not dreamed of that since Dumbledore and our new Professor destroyed the Dark Lord.”

“Voldemort, we can say his name now that he’s offed,” Sirius said bravely, thinking of the way Regulus woke up crying the morning Voldemort died, nearly collapsing in his arms. Sirius asked him then why he was upset, he promised it was happy tears, that the Dark Lord would never get a chance to drown him or poison Sirius’s magic. Their mother silenced both of them for a week after that for the ‘disturbance’ it caused her, but Sirius made sure he took the brunt of her punishments, he always would. Besides, she'd been unable to hurt him with bonding magic, his magic had severed all ties with that woman since he was 10. Curses could only do so much.

Regulus gave him a ghost of a smile, and Sirius wondered if seers could ever be truly happy. “It was you, this time, in my dreams.”

“Drowning?” Sirius asked, unafraid.

“No, you were fighting Bellatrix and she’s winning,” Regulus all but spat out. “She’s using the cutting curse to make you bleed and laughing about all your pure blood dripping onto the floor, saying you don’t deserve to have it inside you, she’s threatening to spill it all. I haven’t seen to the end yet though, you may live yet.”

Sirius winced. “It won’t happen. If I see our dear cousin, I’ll do my best to be a good little Slytherin and slither my way away from her without giving her any more incentives than she already has to spill my blood.”

Regulus bumped his shoulder gently. “That’s rather unlikely, Si. Don’t forget, I know you.”

“Yeah, you do,” Sirius allowed, sending another wave of his magic through their connection, heartened by the way Regulus was looking less haunted by the moment. Their complementary magic always soothed him, that had been his job since he was old enough to know how to focus his own energy.

“And don’t think I haven’t always known that you went into Slytherin house for me, denying yourself,” Regulus all but whispered, so careful, even in the empty room.

Sirius smiled, though it felt false. “Don’t. Please.”

“I’ve always known what you’ve sacrificed,” Regulus said, not voicing his gratitude but it was so clear across their bond.

Sirius nodded, unable to find a reply.

“I know you want more than just me,” Regulus continued.

“Will I find it?” Sirius asked, knowing how dumb it was to ask seers a question yes or no questions but unable to stop himself.

“Of course. I’m only the first person to love you, I promise I won’t be the last,” Regulus replied, a cheeky little look on his face.

Sirius smiled, and having more than enough of a conversation about blood and death and honour and love, he grabbed a pillow off the sofa. He gently whacked Regulus over the head with it, making him laugh like the fifteen-year-old boy he was and forgetting about his visions for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many Black brothers feelings. Thanks for the love on this already! Talk to me about the Potters and the Blacks in the comments, please.
> 
> Also I have quite recently made a tumblr: https://dogstar234.tumblr.com Please feel free to follow and chat with me there!


	3. Chapter 3

A flash of scarlet caught Harry’s eye. Fawkes winked at him as she deposited a book in his lap.

“Lo, girl,” Harry said warmly, smiling as he ran his hands down her bright feathers. “Another gift from Albus, hm?”

She trilled in reply, nudging at him to pick it up.

“Right, right, bossy,” Harry mumbled at the bird. It was an illustrated children’s book, reminding him a little of The Tales of Beadle the Bard. Even as an adult, Dumbledore must not think much of his reading comprehension.

“Great Complementary Magicks Through Time,” Harry read aloud, and flipped to the first page. The illustrations were in vibrant colour, and he watched as Morgana drew on Merlin’s magicks, the two of them holding hands, wands working as one to heal King Arthur, bringing him back from grip of death. Morgana stole a kiss from Merlin halfway through, a little innocent thing and the colours on the page grew even brighter, practically glowing off the pages.

“Their complementary magicks increased their strength and the most powerful mages of their time learned how much better it was together than apart,” Harry continued reading to the Phoenix, who nodded along.

He flipped to the next page where Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Gryffindor stood on the ground that grew into Hogwarts, pouring their magic and love and protection into the earth and water and air, making Britain’s young witches and wizards safe from the muggles that would harm them for their gifts.

Harry had a thought, their worlds weren’t that different, Gellert Grindlewald was still imprisoned. “Were Dumbledore and Grindlewald like this?” 

Fawkes nodded once before glaring at him for the rudeness of his question.

“Alright, not my business, I’m sorry,” Harry murmured, before flipping the book shut and lacing up his shoes, heading down to his classroom.

It was time for lessons, starting with the first years. And they were so tiny—he didn’t think he had ever been that small but he knew he must have been. And even worse, they were a little afraid of him. But after a full double period of lessons, including one on dodging where he transfigured a quill into a rubber ball, the ice was broken and they had warmed to him easily.

He didn’t think his NEWT level students would be won over like that. Harry got the classroom early, arranging the desks in a half-moon formation with a quick flick of his wand.

He rolled up his sleeves and took deep breaths, in and out, in an out, like his mind healer used to tell him. Count to ten, focus on the beating of his heart and the magic in his pulse, the magic of the earth and the castle and the air. He was alive and the world was still spinning. 

A few moments later, the door opened, and two very familiar faces walked in.

James strolled in, hand-in-hand with Lily. Harry’s heart stopped for a moment. She was so young and so lovely, and the way the light reflected off her hair felt like home. Harry stifled a long-buried childish urge to reach out and touch it, to grab a strand around his fingers.

“Hiya, Harry,” James said with a cheeky wave. 

Harry gathered his composure. “I think you’ll find that it’s Professor Potter in about….two minutes,” he said, looking at his watch.

James laughed, mussing his messy black hair with his free hand. “Right, Professor Harry Potter, _sir_ , I wanted you to meet someone. This is my, err-friend, the Head Girl, Lily Evans.”

Lily took a step forward and outstretched her hand. “Pleased to meet you,” she said kindly, her voice known to him, deep in his bones. It would have been the first voice he ever heard, but he swallowed that thought down, he wasn’t born from this Lily, she didn’t give her life for his. He was nothing but a stranger.

“It is so good to meet you,” Harry replied, shaking her hand, their green eyes meeting. “Err—the other Professors have nothing but wonderful things to say about you,” he finished lamely.

“Thank you,” Lily said, her ears flushing red at the compliment. “It’ll be nice to finally have a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, you won’t believe some of the substandard jokers we’ve had in this position before.”

Harry laughed. “Trust me, I’d believe it.”

“And not the good kind of jokers either,” James pointed out. “It’s a miracle we managed to learn anything at all. What’s on the agenda for today, Professor?” he asked, making the word sound cheeky. 

“You’ll see,” Harry said, smiling back at him. “And look, if you have any complaints or suggestions, I’ll listen to them later, I’m new to this, alright?”

“Just pretend you know what you’re doing even if you have no clue, it’s what I always do,” James offered with an easy shrug off the shoulder, wincing when Lily elbowed him.

“Ignore him,” Lily said. “I’m sure you have a clue, what with what you’ve done and all,” she said, sounding grateful.  
“We’ll find out shortly, I guess,” Harry said, gesturing to their seats as the rest of the seventh years started to trickle in. A very pretty Ravenclaw that looked a little like Sue Li sat down in the farthest chair from him, as well as Hufflepuff that introduced himself as Kenneth Crother.

A young but still tired looking Remus Lupin sent a guarded look his way before sitting down next to James, and Harry thanked whatever gods he didn’t believe in that Peter Pettigrew didn’t get the marks to qualify for this class. He didn’t think he could pretend to be fair with Wormtail.

The Slytherins came in last, just barely avoiding being late. Mulciber glared at him, while a young Severus Snape gave away no expression whatsoever.

Sirius Black avoided looking at him, and sat alone, away from his housemates and the rest of the class.

“Right,” Harry said, standing up. “I’m Professor Potter and this is NEWT Level Defense Against the Dark Arts. I hope you’ll leave this class with the marks you want and more importantly, full knowledge of defensive combat magic. Even if Voldemort is gone, you still need to know how to protect yourselves when you leave Hogwarts next year.”

A hand shot up in the air.

“Yes, Mr. Mulciber,” Harry said, holding back a sigh.

“Do you have any qualifications besides for defeating the Dark Lord? Forgive me, but you look rather young,” Mulciber sneered. 

“That’s between myself, the Headmaster and the board of governors, but you’re welcome to self-study and take the NEWTS yourself if you don’t think you have anything to learn from me,” Harry offered, gesturing toward the door.

“I’ll stay,” Mulciber muttered. 

Sirius snorted with amusement, and Harry looked over to him, but Sirius looked back toward his desk instead of meeting his eyes.

“Right, now any other questions before we get started?” 

Severus Snape’s hand shot up.

“Yes, Mr. Snape,” Harry said.

“Are we dueling today? I couldn’t help but notice the shape of the desks, plus the spell splatter barrier you’ve enacted a few feet ahead of you,” he asked.

“Correct, and I’m impressed you noticed the barrier, you must have cast a diagnostic charm on the room when you walked in?” Harry asked.

Snape nodded, dark greasy hair getting his eyes.

“Two points to Slytherin for your knowledge, well-done,” Harry said, watching Snape sit up a little straighter in his chair from the praise.

“Now, here are the rules. There’s eight of you. We’ll have you duel in pairs for five minutes in front of the class and I’ll learn your skill level and instruct you on what you can do to improve. Does that sound fair?” 

The class nodded.

“Now, the rules…no unforgivables obviously, no spilling of blood or bone breakers, I don’t want a mess or for Madam Pomfrey to start hating me on my first day of class. We’re aiming for you to disarm your opponent or for them to give up, this isn’t the time to take out your grudge or problems, alright?” Harry said, making sure to look at James and Snape when he said this. “So, who wants to go first?”

Unsurprisingly, James’s hand shot in the air, alongside Mulciber, Snape, Lupin’s and Sirius’s. 

“Right, okay, how about Lupin and Potter, you two can start,” Harry said, standing to the side, and with a flick of his wrist, created a golden countdown clock in the air. 

It was a showy spell to do silently, and he felt a little pleased when Sirius glanced up at the clock with obvious appreciation of his magic.

James and Remus stood up and walked to the centre of the room and grinned at each other, bowing low. Harry was pleased to see that at least the two of them were still friends here, though the general sense of being unwell that radiated off of Remus reminded Harry that the full moon was only a few days away.

“And start,” Harry yelled, starting the clock. 

The two of them danced around each other for a minute, before James attempted to disarm Remus. He jumped away easily. Remus sent a stunner back and James blocked it, before transfiguring the floor to ice, sending Remus sliding down to the floor before sending a tickling spell over at James who collapsed in a pile of giggles before sending manacles flying toward Remus. The duel lasted for a full five minutes, there wasn’t a winner, but James was starting to wear Remus down.

“Nice job you two,” he said, clapping toward both of them. “Potter, your creativity will serve you well, but in a real fight, think more about shutting down your opponent and disarming him than using the most showy transfiguration you can—and Lupin your defensive skills are top notch, but you’re still whispering some of the nonverbal spells, giving Potter a split second to react. If you can stay truly non-verbal, you get a huge advantage.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Remus said with a smile, acknowledging the feedback well. James looked thoughtful and nodded and the pair of them walked back to their desks.

“Ten points to Gryffindor for a great first demonstration. Okay, how about Mulciber and Black, you two next,” Harry said and stood to the side while the duel started.

If James and Lupin’s duel had been creative and fun, this one was nothing but brutal and fast. Mulciber and Sirius gave each other no respite as they fired curse after curse at each other, red spell light bouncing up against the shields.

Just as Sirius was starting to wear Mulciber down with his non-stop volley of stunners, Harry felt a blood-red bone-breaking curse leave Mulciber’s wand. In the space of a half a heartbeat, Harry worked off instinct, capturing the curse with his wand, dissolving it into the air and wrapping Mulciber up with conjured robe, covering his mouth as well.

The red light wasn’t to hit Sirius, not again, not this time if he could stop it.

Sirius exhaled sharply, shivering, looking at Harry with something akin to hunger in his eyes, and Harry felt James’s magic well up, ready to protect him, not that he needed it.

“What did I say about bone-breakers?” Harry shouted before freeing Mulciber from his binds. “Twenty points from Slytherin and detention on Saturday, back to your desk, Mulciber. Black wins this one by default.”

“Yes, Professor,” Mulciber muttered. “Sorry, it was an accident,” he lied. 

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Harry reprimanded him, and Mulciber nodded in reply. 

“I had him!” Sirius shouted as he watched Mulciber pace back to his desk. “I wouldn’t have let it hit me, the only way he can hit me with a curse is if it’s aimed at my back!”

“Alright, but it’s my classroom and I’d rather not have my students have to grow back bones on their first day,” Harry said. “Nice spellwork though, Black.”

Sirius nodded, and Harry noticed he was still shivering, he wondered if Mulciber had managed to hit him with _something_ earlier.

Next up was Li and Lily, and Lily won with clever charmwork, and James started clapping for her loudly. Snape easily beat the Hufflepuff with varieties of spells that Harry knew were his own creations, and Harry awarded Slytherin another five points, and gave him just one little pointer on making sure he covered his left side when he cast.

Before he knew it, the class was over. And all in all, it could have been worse, Harry thought, as he watched his NEWT class trickle out of the classroom. Sirius was last to leave, and stopped at his desk, his gray eyes stormy and cold. Harry hated the way he was looking at him, and for a moment, felt 15 again, furious and lonely and desperately missing his godfather.

“I could have done it, sir!” Sirius said loudly, his jaw clenched.

“Don’t call me, sir,” Harry muttered, arranging his papers on his to avoid looking at him, but Sirius just crowded more into his space.

“You didn’t have to protect me, I could have blocked the bone-breaker! You didn’t stop the battles for anyone else,” Sirius said, sounding wounded.

“No one else sent any dark curses at their opponent except for Mulciber,” Harry replied, stifling the urge to reach out and touch his shoulder. “You’re a good dueller, I can tell, please don’t take what I did as an insult to your skill, Sirius.”

“I’m better than Mulciber,” Sirius shot back. 

“I bet, yeah,” Harry agreed. “I just reacted instinctively, I’m sorry if I wounded your pride in front of the class.”

“I don’t care what the class thinks,” Sirius shot back. “I wanted to take down Mulciber a peg, he’s a giant arse.”

Harry laughed. He was a professor now, he should probably take points, but he was amused. “Alright.”

Sirius sighed. “Don’t do it again, I can handle myself.”

Harry nodded. “Okay, but since you’re here, do you have a minute?”

Sirius nodded warily.

He took a deep breath. “You probably would have beaten Mulciber, you’re smart and very quick on your feet, but if you cast a Protego Maxima a little sooner and stronger, that bone breaker would have disappeared before it got as close to your chest as it did.”

“Fine,” Sirius sighed, the mask appearing back on his face.

“Let me show you,” Harry said, and stood up in the dueling circle. “Protego Maxima,” he shouted, over-enunciating the Latin and doing the three-step wand movement as quickly as he could, making the bubble of protection large and bright.

Sirius exhaled sharply. “Sweet Merlin,” he muttered, his hand reaching out to touch the golden bubble, his pale cheeks colouring slightly. “Your magic,” he whispered.

“Can I touch your arm to show you?” Harry asked, taking a step toward him.

“Please,” Sirius said, watching the bubble fade away into nothingness, offering his wand-arm to him.

Harry touched his wrist, curling Sirius’s fingers tightly around his familiar wand. “Flick, twist and jab,” he instructed, moving his arm in the three-steps once, and then again. “Now, CAST.”

Sirius bit his lip, jaw clenched in concentration and with Harry’s fingers still on his, a perfectly shaped Protego Maxima formed, bright molten gray to complement Harry’s gold.

The whole room felt warmer, bright, brimming to the edge with powerful magic, like scene around the battlefield in Camelot in the book.

“Sweet Merlin,” Sirius said, dropping his arm, snatching his wand-hand back from Harry. 

“Just like that, yeah,” Harry said, grinning at Sirius. “You’re a good student.”

“Student, right,” Sirius snorted, his voice low. He looked at the shield again, and shook his head, like a dog. “Do you even know what you’re doing right now?”

“Teaching you how to make a shield?” Harry asked. “And doing a good job of it, if that marvelous piece of magic is any proof?”

Sirius snorted again, and walked toward the door. “Stop being deliberately obtuse, Professor,” he shot over his shoulder as he left the classroom, slamming the door behind him.

“What did I do?” Harry said aloud to the empty room, watching as the remnants of his spell and Sirius’s danced together, entwining for a moment before disappearing into the ether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay- I've been having a very tough time with everything happening. Hope you all are staying safe and healthy.
> 
> Let me know if you're still reading and interested!
> 
> Lots of love, J.


	4. Chapter 4

Sirius’s wand hand shook. It felt warm, like he had been struck with lightning but instead of it shocking him, his whole body felt light and _good_.

His magic sparked on the edge of his fingertips, he felt like he was still borrowing from Professor Potter, like he could power the light of a thousand lumoses without even using his wand. It was beyond brilliant, it was nothing he had known before.

“Fuck,” Sirius muttered as he meandered down toward the dungeons.

He had shared magic before with Regulus, shared their complementary magics all the time, but his magic was familiar and like home. He had always known his brother had loved him and that Regulus was his to protect. This was new.

“Fuck,” Sirius repeated, his heart beating too-fast in his chest, looking down at his feet, before a pair of pale hands reached out for him from a hidden alcove, pulling him in.

Sirius whipped out his wand before looking into a pair of gray eyes, the same as his. “Reggie, I could have cursed you! Creepy little seer!”

“No you couldn’t have,” Regulus said, almost gently, wrapping his philia, his brotherly magic around him tenderly, casting sparks with his hand.

Sirius put his arm around his brother, letting some of his tension bleed away.

Regulus took it from him. “Don’t be afraid, Si.”

“I’m not afraid!” Sirius replied. And he wasn’t. He wasn’t. Whatever this was, it wasn’t fear.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Okay, you’re not scared, I just _saw_ your magic calling for me from across the castle for no reason before it actually did.”

“Why explain what happened when you know already?” Sirius grumbled, a refrain everyone who ever loved a seer said often, though not always aloud.

Regulus sighed, a familiar, long-suffering sound. “I’m trying to comfort you after your first time feeling complementary magic that isn’t mine, you absolute bell-end.”

So that’s what that was, of course, Sirius thought. “You’re the bell-end,” he replied instead. “And comforting you is my job, I’m the eldest.”

“I can carry some of your weight sometimes, unless it’s the weight of your massive head,” Regulus said, flicking him on the forehead.

Sirius rolled his eyes, still too shaken-up to banter with his brother.

He exhaled, finally feeling calm. His own magic was fully his again. He missed Professor Potter’s warmth, as strange and new as it was.

“So, how was your first day?” he asked Regulus eventually.

“Less eventful than yours,” he replied. “I had double-transfigs. And Sirius? I’m going to need you to help me figure out a few things or borrow your old coursework, I know you still have it. My mind was elsewhere during McGonagall’s class today.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius replied, guilt rising quickly in his gut.

“Believe it or not bighead, it’s not all about you and your problems. Ella McGrath has been charming her skirt’s hemline higher and higher and she sat right in front of me and smiled this afternoon,” Regulus said, rising an eyebrow.

“She’s a half-blood,” Sirius said carefully, recalling a very pretty Ravenclaw that he saw on the train during the prefect’s meeting.

“I’m well-aware,” Regulus snapped. “But it’s a new world, isn’t it? Now that Voldemort is dead. Not that we should be proclaiming it loudly around the common room if we want to sleep in our beds without fearing being cursed, but things are changing now. Just keep it quiet, will you?”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “I won’t tell anyone about your little crush, don’t worry. Besides, who am I going to tell?”

Regulus just looked at him with an old exasperated expression, like he knew something he didn’t, but Sirius didn’t push him. Not today. He had enough shocks for one day.

On the way up to Gryffindor Tower, James was beaming at Remus and Lily. “I told you Professor Potter was great! What a lesson!”

“You were right, and I do like him,” Remus said agreeably, amused at his friend’s obvious pride in his kinsman.

“Me too,” Lily agreed. “He’s seen things, you can tell, but he’s not cold like that old Auror Proudfoot was. His eyes are kind.”

“It’s like he actually cares, imagine that in a Defense Professor,” James joked. “Though I thought he was going to slam Mulciber against the wall when he nearly got Black with that bone-breaker curse. I felt his fear and rage, it was intense. He was holding himself back when he tied up that little snake.”

Lily looked at him thoughtfully, a strange expression passing over her face. “You felt that? His magic lashing out?”

“He’s a Potter, and our magic recognises each other, though I didn’t expect for it to feel quite as protective of him as it did during lessons today,” James explained.

“Hmm,” Remus said. “Did your Dad write you back yet about his theories?”

“No, but I doubt he’ll know much more than me, especially considering he’s from a thousand years ago,” James said with a shrug.

“Not the Morgana theory again!” Lily said with a long-suffering sigh. “I’ve already told you that he doesn’t sound like he’s from the Dark Ages.”

“There’s charms for that!” James explained. “If he used a translation charm, he’d sound modern, like us.”

“It’s not just his voice, it’s the way he carries himself, he doesn’t have the posture of the Dark Ages Wizards I’ve seen in books and portraits,” Lily argued back. “What do you think, Remus?”

Remus rubbed his hands over his eyes, he was already tired. “I agree with Lily.”

“Betrayer,” James joked. “What makes you think that?”

“Because I’m right,” Lily said, his voice honey-sweet, betrayed by the smirk on her face.

“As Evans says, because she’s right,” Remus replied. “But whenever he’s from, the man’s clearly got secrets. I think you should let him be instead of annoying him into sharing things he’s not ready for.”

“Sometimes if secrets are shared, then a person’s friends, or in this case, family, can help them once they know the secret and can figure out what it is they need,” James said smugly, staring a little too obviously at Remus.

“He’s a powerful wizard, not your year mate, I don’t think badgering him’s a great idea,” Remus warned.

“We won’t badger him,” Lily replied.

"Why do you care so much?" Remus shot back. He got why James cared, but Lily seemed even more taken with the mystery of Professor Potter.

Lily shifted on her feet. "I just do!"

Remus felt a migraine coming on, he didn't have the strength to parse through that obvious lie.

Lily turned back to James. "Are you sure that he didn’t give anything away in his conversation with you? Any clues at all?”

“He said was that that he wasn’t my half-brother, but nothing more specific and I didn't want to push him, we just met,” James whispered, lowering his voice as they passed one of the more gossipy portraits. Baldric the bad was a drunk who loved to bellow secrets.

“You do look so alike though, especially the hair,” Lily mused. “There’s magic to figure these things out, I read about in the library once.”

“We’re not casting spells on him,” James said, grabbing Lily’s hand. “My magic won’t let me, not without his consent.”

“Very chivalrous of you,” Lily said, a tiny hint of mischief in her voice. “But who said anything about spells?”

“A potion then,” James said, with a long-suffering sigh of a boy with a famous potioneer father who ended up not being a prodigy himself.

“There’s a potion for everything! A genealogy one would do it, it takes a full lunar cycle to brew but if Slughorn lets me have some hellbore and moonstones from his stores, I could nail his parentage down from grandparents at least if we get hair or nails or something personal from the Professor,” she mused, green eyes sparkling with intelligence.

“ _A potion for everything_ ,” James mimicked. “My Dad would love you.”

Lily looked equal parts offended and flustered, and smacked him lightly on the shoulder in lieu of a reply.

“Mr. Potter’s eventual love of Lily aside, it’s a terrible idea and I won’t help you,” Remus grumbled. “Let the man have his secrets, hasn’t he done all of us enough of a favour by popping up out of nowhere and taking out Voldemort?”

James nodded. “Yeah. And I am grateful! I’m a blood traitor, from a whole family of blood traitors, I’m so glad Voldemort’s gone…it’s just that I’m just so curious, Moony.”

“Let it be, Prongs,” Remus sighed. “And that goes to you too, Lily.”

“I like solving mysteries,” she grumbled, and Remus knew the battle was lost. “I have ever since I found out I was a witch, I like things making sense!”

“Fine,” Remus agreed. “But I won’t be involved or cover your tracks.”

“We won’t need any distractions, or help, don’t worry,” James said, a familiar glint in his hazel eyes of a plan forming.

Lily boldly stepped forward and kissed James on the cheek, making his face go as flame-red as her hair and Remus felt sorry for Professor Potter for a second.

Whatever his secrets were, he was sure his brilliant friends would divine it somehow.

Later that evening, Dumbledore smirked into his butterbeer when Harry filled him in on how his first day teaching went. “I’m impressed. Besides for the incident with Black-the-elder, it sounds like you had a very successful day, Harry.”

Harry groaned. “What did I do to him, exactly? Explain it to me like I’m from another world---because I am, remember?”

Albus’s hands twirled around his beard. “In this world, touching someone’s wand while they’re performing magic is intimate. We can correct form in our students before they’re casting, but don’t touch hands whilst the magic is actually being formed.”

“Intimate?” Harry whispered, his cheeks colouring as he recalled the look on Sirius’s face, equal parts delighted and beautifully flustered. “I didn’t mean it like _that_ , Professor!”

“Oh, it’s not intimate the way your young mind is imagining, don’t worry,” Albus said, his tone more upbeat than the circumstance called for. “It’s more like, hmm, let me show you,” he mused, before moving more sprightly than a man his age should, throwing his arms around Harry in a fierce hug.

Harry stiffened for a moment before accepting the embrace, patting Dumbledore awkwardly on the back.

Dumbledore snickered as he pulled away, the absolute troll.

“So I hugged Sirius then?” Harry mused. “Or my magic did?”

“Right,” he agreed. “It’s over-familiar, but an innocent mistake. Harry, it was only a shield charm. I imagine it was quite intense for him, your magic is like the apex of a summer storm and you cared deeply for a version of him once.”

Harry swallowed past a lump in his throat. “He was my godfather.”

Albus nodded, intelligent blue eyes trying to figure him out.

“He was one of the only things that were ever mine,” Harry said quietly. “He cared about me, and I got him killed.”

“Would he have seen it that way? You were a child, were you not?” Dumbledore replied, extending a hand toward him. Harry knew he was being kind and he didn’t deserve it.

“I was old enough to know better, to know that Voldemort was a liar, to know that it was a trap for me,” Harry snapped, his guilt still fresh a whole decade and a new universe later.

“Alright,” Dumbledore agreed. “But I think if Sirius Black was yours, if he cared about you like you said, he wouldn’t want you spending time blaming yourself when there’s so many more productive ways to spend your young life.”

“Like embracing his counterpart with my magic by accident?” Harry joked.

“Yes, just like that,” Dumbledore replied, a faraway look in his eyes. “I think my sister would like you,” he said after a moment.

“Yeah?” Harry said softly.

Dumbledore nodded. “She never got to go to Hogwarts, but when I was home for the summer, I used to practise all kinds of magic in my room for hours, I wanted to destroy all doubt in anyone’s mind that I was the most talented student in generations.”

“And you were,” Harry agreed.

“Certainty,” Dumbledore said. “But that’s not the point of my story. I’d cast for hours and hours, and sometimes I’d let Ariana hold my wand hand when I was doing gentle spells so she could feel my magic surround her as she wasn’t stable enough for a wand then. She’d laugh, it delighted her. We'd have such fun.”

“Do you still do that now? With her? She’s just in Hogsmeade, you said.” Harry asked.

“Not as much as I should,” Dumbledore admitted. “I’ve not been the brother I should have been. But complementary magics are a gift to be shared with people you love, Harry. Your magic is beautiful. I don’t want you to be ashamed, just because you were a little forward.”

“Okay,” Harry said quietly. “I’ll do my best.”

“Now, tell me more of your plans for your OWL students, that obstacle course sounds like a grand old time,” Dumbledore said, and Harry took the change of topic with the grace it was offered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets his dogged, mystery-solving personality honestly from both parents. Thanks for the wonderful feedback on the last chapter, it truly means a lot.
> 
> Stay safe and lots of love,  
> J


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, his OWL-level class had no familiar faces, except for one. Mr. RAB himself sat right in the front of the class, quill-at-the-ready and he all but smirked at Harry like he knew something that he didn’t. Never one to back away at a challenge, Harry smiled back, making him turn away. 

Regulus looked so like his brother, but he hadn’t had his final growth spurt yet. He was short and face still had the baby-fat of youth, making him look almost sweet and innocent, words he had never associated with the Blacks before.

“Good morning,” Harry said, waving to the students. “I’m Professor Potter, you might have heard from me from my various newsworthy stunts like appearing out of nowhere or defeating Voldemort.”

A few students laughed, breaking the ice just like he hoped.

“Your OWL year is perhaps the most important here at Hogwarts. And I won’t let you down—by the end of term, you’ll know enough practical magic and theory to pass your OWLS. And by the time the actual exams come around, I’m confident that you’ll ace it and hopefully learn enough defensive magic to actually be able to protect yourselves,” Harry explained, before handing out his syllabus and starting the students right into an impromptu quiz on shield spells and disarming.

The class wasn’t as afraid of him as the first years or as bold and set in their ways as the NEWT level, and the double period flew right by until it was time for lunch,

Harry watched the students trickle out of this classroom, some more eager to get out than others. But Regulus Black stayed behind, loitering in front of his desk.

“Mr. Black,” Harry said kindly.

“Professor,” Regulus replied, not meeting his eyes.

“Do you have a question about the syllabus?” Harry asked him after a moment had passed.

“I do, actually,” Regulus said, his vowels crisp and sharp in his mouth. “You were talking about an obstacle course as our end of term exam---is the boggart section necessary to pass?”

Harry met his grey eyes, so like his brother’s. “Yes. But you can take that section privately with me. Any student can, and I won’t think any less of you.”

Regulus nodded, exhaled, his posture looser. “It’s not that I’m afraid, Professor.”

“It’s okay if you are,” Harry said gently. 

“I’m not,” Regulus protested, sighing as if he was much older than his fifteen years. “My fears are just private. And for good reason, I won’t have them out in public as fodder for the Slytherin gossip mills.”

“Right,” Harry said. “I don’t want you to worry about that. The only person who has to witness this is me and I’m not going to share with anyone. I’m not a gossip.”

Regulus nodded, but made no moves to leave the room. Harry waited him out, he learned in Auror academy that silence was sometimes the best strategy. 

“You’re not a gossip, but you are a wizard who lets your magic touch someone else without asking,” Regulus said eventually.

Harry opened his mouth to apologise, but Regulus waved his hand and Harry shut up.

“My brother always looks out for me,” Regulus said eventually, taking a step closer to Harry. “I want to look out for him. He deserves an apology, he doesn’t know that you didn’t mean it.”

Harry swallowed past a strange lump in his throat that felt like guilt. “I’ll tell him, thank you. What has Sirius said to you about what happened after class?”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Like I’m sharing my confidences with you.”

“Fair enough,” Harry said evenly. 

“It’s an intense experience, feeling complementary magic, isn’t it? And Sirius has a lot of magic to spare,” Regulus said with a smirk, leaning forward toward him. But with his chubby cheeks, it just made him look like a naughty child, and Harry swallowed down a laugh.

“Thanks for that, Mr. Black. Now, you might want to head over to lunch so you don’t miss out on all the good stuff,” he replied, not caring how transparent he was in wanting this conversation over.

“It’s Slytherin, there will be food, it’s not a free-for-all like you were used to in Gryffindor,” Regulus grumbled. “Goodbye Professor.”

Harry’s heart stopped for a second. “I didn’t say I was in Gryffindor. Or Hogwarts at all, for that matter.”

Regulus paled, his already white face draining of colour before he regained composure. “You’re a Potter,” he said. “They’re all Gryffindors.”

“Right,” Harry replied, not believing him for a second. “Have a good day, Mr. Black.”

Regulus nodded and left, his robes swooshing dramatically behind him as he headed for the exit. Harry felt like he was getting a migraine and it was only his second day of teaching. Mr. RAB seemed to know quite a lot more about him than he should, and Harry wondered if it would be a problem.

That evening, Harry sat in his office, going over his lesson plans for the seventh-years. They all had a decent grasp on defensive magic, now it would be time to see what they had learned about creatures in their time at Hogwarts. 

There was just the question about werewolves, he was sure it would come up on the NEWTS but the last thing he wanted to do was put any scrutiny on Remus. A knock on the door shook him out of his thoughts. 

“Come in,” Harry yelled, but a part of him knew who it was before the door even swung open. His magic knew. It flared up inside of him, bright and happy.

Sirius Black walked up to his desk, and Harry instinctively stood up to greet him. He looked calm, but Harry could feel his nervous, wild energy, like a caged dog.

“Professor,” Sirius said respectfully. “My brother said you wanted to see me.”

“I didn’t,” Harry replied. He knew Regulus Black was going to be trouble. 

“Right,” Sirius said, his face falling for a second. “Are you calling Regulus a liar?” he asked, taking a step closer to Harry.

“No, Sirius,” Harry replied. “I did want to see you, I just didn’t tell him that.”

Sirius tilted his head back and laughed, the fight draining out of him. “He does that sometimes. What did you need to tell me?”

Harry took a deep breath. “I owe you an apology. I’m not exactly from here and I didn’t mean to impose on you by casting magic together. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

Sirius’s intelligent eyes flicked over him quickly. “You didn’t mean it?”

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Harry replied.

Sirius nodded, and in a graceful, fluid movement, pulled the black ribbon that was holding his hair back out. He shook his hair out of his face before pointing his wand at the ribbon. In a beautifully gorgeous and showy piece of transfiguration, Sirius turned the ribbon into an animated, jet-black little Padfoot. 

The whole room started to feel warmer, Harry’s fingers tingled with the magic and something deep inside of him was crying out with joy and grief at seeing Padfoot again.

“Touch it and tell me you don’t feel anything,” Sirius said boldly, nudging it over toward Harry.

Harry picked up the little dog, and found it hard to swallow. “Why this?”

“It’s my Patronus,” Sirius shrugged. “I thought it would be the magic that most feels like me. What do you feel right now? What does your magic want?”

Harry levitated the tiny little Padfoot in the air. “It feels like I’m outside flying on the first warm day of spring after a long winter, and the sun’s on my face.”

Sirius nodded, and smiled like he knew something that Harry didn’t. “That’s my magic, what you’re feeling.”

“You’re a very gifted wizard,” Harry replied, his magic wanting to entwine with Sirius but his brain and heart shouting out to him that this wasn’t his godfather, this was a student, his student.

“I know,” Sirius grinned. “Cast something on me. Anything. A spell, a charm. A jinx, even. I can take it.”

Harry gathered up his strength, and picked up his wand, and flicked the door to his office back open. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but to Harry’s surprise, he didn’t look offended. “You’ll change your mind. I can wait, Harry.”

“I think you’ll find it’s Professor Potter,” he said, forcing the words out, as much as he liked hearing his name said like that.

Sirius sighed, and walked out of the room, and the tiny, toy Padfoot barked in his absence. 

“I miss him too,” Harry said to the toy, wondering how his whole new life had fallen apart in less than a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regulus is such a little troll! Hope you are all keeping well.


	6. Chapter 6

It was easy to find Regulus, studious little arsehole that he was. Sirius found him in his favourite corner in the library, quill-in-hand tracing something from a defense textbook.

Sirius slammed the book shut. “You’re a dead man.”

Regulus barely looked up. “I’m a bit busy.”

Sirius sent a light stinging hex his way. “No you’re not!”

“Ow!” Regulus cried out. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is sending me to go talk to Professor Potter when he didn’t ask to see it,” Sirius hissed. 

“I didn’t say he asked to see you, I said that he wanted to see you,” Regulus pointed out, rolling his eyes.

“It’s still a lie by omission, and I’m bloody furious at you,” Sirius replied, not yelling however much he wanted to. 

“I’m not sorry,” Regulus replied. “It went well, didn’t it? He cares about you and your magic is complementary, why not speed things up a little?”

“That’s not your decision,” Sirius snapped. “What did you see, anyway?”

“Just how important you are to each other,” Regulus replied.

“Important how?” Sirius asked, snatching Regulus’s quill out of his hands.

“I’m trying to get a head start on this homework, Professor Potter likes you but he’s unsure about me,” Regulus said. “Leave me be!”

“Not until I get more details. I can be very annoying,” Sirius said, levitating the quill out of Regulus’s reach.

“And don’t I know it,” Regulus muttered. “And you’re well aware I don’t see everything and the future is constantly in flux. But you were named for the brightest star visible from every part of Earth. And he thinks you’re that, and that you hang the moon and the sun even though the stars are different for him.”

“Very poetic, Reg,” Sirius said, even though he felt like his heart had grown three sizes.

Regulus sighed. “Will you leave me to my homework now?”

Sirius handed him back his quill. “Do you need any help? I’m actually a bit of a genius, you know.”

“Yeah and I know got an O on your Defense OWL but I need to sort this for myself,” Regulus said, looking unfairly stressed for the first week of school.

“Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind,” Sirius said kindly, and squeezed Regulus’s free hand, sending a small bit of brotherly magic and encouragement through their complementary bond. 

“Thanks! And you’re welcome,” Regulus said to him as Sirius walked away, making him laugh. He was still a little angry at Regulus’s meddling, but at least he got to be alone with Professor Potter.

Harry’s NEWT class was his last of the day on Friday afternoon. He got there a few minutes early, and steeled his nerves with the deep breathing techniques his mind healer after the war had taught him. She’d laugh herself silly now with the situation he was in now, he once told her that his life was a series of ridiculous adventures that ended in tragedy.

She looked at him so kindly and said it didn’t have to be like that anymore, that he could grow as an adult to have whatever kind of life he wanted. But he knew she was wrong and this---this was the proof. 

His dead loved ones came strolling in his Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Sirius and James jockeying for the best position at the front of the class. Sirius was quicker, and took the front row centre first, and James, Lily and Remus sat to his right.

“Afternoon,” Harry said, waving to the group when everyone had taken their seats. Mulciber still looked at him with open hostility on his face, but Severus Snape inclined his head in an almost respectful manner. 

“I’ve written up reports from your duels in our first lesson together, it’s not scored but instead a listing of strengths and weakness, and spells that I’d like you to learn to improve on.”

“Nice,” James said, smiling at him encouragingly, his hazel eyes so warm.

Harry smiled back, and used to his wand to direct the reports to each of the students. “You can read these after class and come to me with any questions, but I’ll expect you to have a basic knowledge of these defensive or offensive spells before our next duel before the end of term Christmas break.”

Lily Evans raised her hand.

“Miss Evans,” Harry answered.

“Learning the basics of spell-casting can be done anywhere, but are we going to have more opportunities to practice them here in the classroom? Or in a free period? I can’t exactly go using freezing spells in the Gryffindor classroom, as annoying as some of the younger years are sometimes,” Lily asked.

“We’ll have chances to practice here, yes, or I can find time in my schedule for small groups of you to meet on evenings or weekends though I understand there will be conflicts with Quidditch Schedules or Slug Club meetings or Hogsmeade,” Harry offered.

“We’ll make the time, Professor,” Sirius spoke up. “Slug Club’s dead boring anyway.”

“Thank you Mr. Black,” Harry replied, amused against his will. “Now we’ve already tested your basic handling of defensive magic in timed duels, but I wanted to do a little project on magical creatures. You’ll each be paired up, and need to write me 18 inches on the best way to handle the creature you’re assigned to. This needs to include both escalation and de-escalation measures.”

A hand shot up.

“Yes, Miss Li,” Harry said.

“Two questions sir—do we pick our own partners and can you elaborate what you mean by escalation and de-escalation measures,” she asked. 

“I’ll assign them, and sure. Vampires can be very dangerous, especially if you meet them in a situation where you’re comfortable or inebriated or on your own. But if you’re at home, you could just refuse to answer the door and invite them in instead of conjuring wood for a stake or simulating sunlight. That’s an avoidance technique and perfectly valid,” Harry replied, making a few of the people in the front row snicker.

Snape’s hand shot up next. “Sir—do you want our view on which course of escalation would be wiser when dealing with a creature?”

“If you like, though a lot of it is situational,” Harry replied. “Speaking of—there’s an interactive part of this assignment as well. After you turn in your papers, I’ll use a dummy charm to see how you react to the creature in real time. You and your partner will work together on this in front of the class to stop it being a threat to you. You won’t be in any real danger in my classroom though.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” James whispered to Lily, and she rolled her eyes.

“Spoken like a real Gryffindor, though I have no desire to have to cart any of you off to the hospital wing when these assignments are due next Friday, I may be a Professor but I think I have better things to do with my weekends,” Harry joked, and then made a snap decision. 

“Right, let’s put you in groups then, and I’m going to annoy all of you by making your partners someone from a different house” he said, to collective groans from some of the students. 

“Mr. Black and Mr. Potter—you’ll work together on Chimeras. Miss Li and Miss Evans—Inferi. Mr. Lupin and Mr. Snape—Dybbuks. And that leaves Mr. Crowther and Mr. Mulciber on Vampires.”

Snape’s hand shot up again. “Why were no werewolves assigned?”

Harry carefully did not look at Remus Lupin. “I was under the impression that they were covered well enough at OWL-level. Is that right?”

“They were on the exam, yes,” Snape admitted. 

“And you did well on the exam, so you must know the basics already. If you’d like to do a supplemental research paper for me on them, you’re welcome to, but I wouldn’t want to add to your already busy course load,” Harry offered, and Snape looked like he was considering it for a moment before shaking his head.

James’s eyes slid over to Remus for a second, but Harry pretended not to see it.

“Now, why don’t you all use the remaining class time to start your research and come up with a strategy to fight your creature, and I’ll be here if you want any feedback or pointers,” he said, letting the students work together. 

He sat down and watched out of the corner of his eye as James and Sirius had an animated conversation, and a feeling of rightness unfurled in his chest at their proximity.

He was meddling, but he didn’t care. Sirius grinned at a joke James had made, and while he still looked a little hesitant to be working with him, it wasn’t hostility.

It could be the first seed of a friendship if nourished properly, but Harry put that thought out of his mind and concentrated on his lessons plans.

The double-period finished sooner than he anticipated. Sirius hung around by the door, but left as James and Lily loitered by his desk, and Harry didn’t let himself watch Sirius leave.

“What do you think of the assignment? Is everything fine with your partners?” Harry asked, though he doubted they stuck around to talk about class. 

“Black only looks like he’s got a stick up his arse, he’s actually a little funny for a Slytherin,” James responded.

“He’s a talented wizard, I think you two will work brilliantly together if you can ignore the Slytherin thing,” Harry said, raising his eyebrows.

“I can do that,” James replied. “He’s not a bad bloke. Mostly keeps to himself. Nothing like some of his awful cousins.”

“I know about them,” Harry said, remembering how dangerous Bellatrix Lestrange always was. She was in ministry custody, but even bound and wandless, she was a threat. Harry sighed.

“Lily—is everything okay with your partner? You two looked deep in thought as well.”

“Grace Li’s a nice girl, and it’s not a problem having a Ravenclaw study partner, they know where all the best books in the library are,” she joked. “Inferi sound rather nasty though.”

“They are,” Harry replied. “The key is knowing how to frighten them. You’ll figure it out.”

“I have a start. We need a range of fire-spells, though we need to figure out one that will hold a flame the longest while giving us a chance to escape if there are too many,” Lily said, smiling at him like she knew how clever she was.

“That’s right, well-done,” Harry said, returning her smile. “But why do I have the feeling that you didn’t stay after class to talk to me about creatures?”

“That’s probably because we didn’t,” James said cheekily. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Sleeping in and then helping Madame Hooch with some advanced flying lessons,” Harry volunteered. “Why?”

“We were wondering if you wanted to have dinner with us. We can meet in the kitchens, or down by the lake, or even your quarters if you’re comfortable enough having us there,” James asked kindly. “We want to get to know you better.”

Harry looked up at the two of them. Lily looked a little nervous, and she grabbed James’s hand while they waited for an answer. But he didn’t know how he could deny them anything, not when the pair of them in another world gave their lives for him. These two were so young and so smart and so alive. He couldn’t say no.

Lily spoke up after a moment. “If you’re worried about…I don’t know, allegations of favouritism, you could just say you were catching up with the Head Boy and Girl? We had a private meeting with Dumbledore before the end of term last year.”

“I’m not worried about that. I’d love to get to know you better too. Why don’t you two come down to my quarters at 7 PM tomorrow, I’ll have the house elves bring us dinner and some butterbeer?” Harry responded, choosing his words so carefully.

“Thank you,” James replied, and Harry could all but feel his relief in their bond, as well as a little bit of nerves. But that was understandable.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Harry replied.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I posted a chapter yesterday, so if you missed it, make sure and catch that one first

Saturday started out uneventful. Mulciber showed up for his detention exactly on time.

“What am I doing for my detention today, sir?” Mulciber asked, his face blank and tone close enough to respectful.

Harry gestured to a desk, where Downfalls of Dark Lords (600BC-1000 C.E.) was displayed prominently.

“My punishment is to…read?” Mulciber asked.

“Well, if you’d rather go help Hagrid clean up after the Thestrals or milk buboter pus for Slughorn, be my guest. It's that or read the book quietly for an hour while I start my grading. The thing they don’t tell you about being a Professor is giving out homework turns into homework for me too,” Harry joked, making Mulciber roll his eyes.

“I’ll read, thanks,” he said quickly, and flipped the book open.

Harry watched him read for a moment, and sighed. He doubted a bit of reading on long-dead Dark Lords getting vanquished—because they all do in the end!—would change Mulciber’s mind. But it was something Hermione would do, and he missed her. He wondered what she and Ron would think of his lesson plans and his strange new life. Sometimes he still thought of a joke and wanted to turn to Ron to tell it but knew he wasn’t there.

Dumbledore was right. He was so lonely, which was probably why he accepted James and Lily’s offer of a shared meal.

“Professor?” Mulciber asked after an hour had passed.

Harry tried to focus on the present. “You can go. I won’t be this lenient if you break rules in class again. There’s not going to be three strikes, if you use dangerous magic in my classroom without my instructing you too, you’ll be expelled from class permanently. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Mulciber said, and while he didn’t seem contrite, he wasn't hostile. That was the best Harry could hope for at this point, so he pointed at the door and sighed.

It was nearly time to help with flying lessons, and then dinner with his parents. His long-dead teenage parents.

He didn’t let himself daydream since he was small.

As a little boy, he used to dream that his parents would reappear and take him out of the cupboard or that some kind adult would want to give him hugs and toys. He learned quickly that dreams got him nowhere, but he closed his eyes and imagined being the age he was now, going to weekly dinners with his parents. Maybe he’d still be a teacher and he could floo to their house, Sirius would be there, his godfather, and they’d want to hear all about his first year of teaching. Dad and Padfoot would tease him about being the one assigning detentions instead of getting them.

Harry rubbed at his eyes, and forced the thoughts away. What did Dumbledore tell him once? Something like how it wouldn’t do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, not even dreams as beautiful and impossible as this one.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lily looked at her reflection in the mirror, and smoothed down the edges of her favourite green dress. She loved the way it brought out her eyes, despite the fact that Petunia once told her wearing green made her look like a Christmas tree.

“Honestly, dear, you know you look beautiful, standing here staring at yourself just seems like a waste of time,” the mirror grumbled.

“Oh, shut it,” Lily replied, before walking down the stairs of her dormitory to the common room.

James had dressed smart too—in semi-formal Potter robes that fit his body like a glove. Her heart beat extra fast seeing him and her magic sparked bright inside of her. This thing between them was new and fragile, but her magic knew it was something special.

He smiled at her, kissing her lightly on the lips, well aware they were in public. “Evans, you look incredible.”

“You’re not looking too bad yourself, Potter,” she replied, reaching her hands up to smooth down his messy hair, but only succeeded in making it stick up more.

“There’s no hope for that I’m afraid,” James said back with a wink, and oh, she was so gone on him. “Are you ready?”

She slipped her hand in his and nodded. She didn’t know why she was so nervous to have dinner with a Professor, she went to the Slug Club every month and that was mostly a good experience. And Professor Potter had proven himself to be both powerful and kind, not showing any preference to purebloods in class.

But something about him was beyond intriguing. He was a mystery to her and so familiar at the same time.

When she looked at his notes on her duel, his handwriting was very similar to hers, some of the letters slanted the same way.

“Oi, Evans! I’ve not seen you this nervous since our first flying lesson,” James said, squeezing her hand.

“I was eleven! And it was my first time seeing that brooms weren’t just used for sweeping!” Lily replied.

“And you got on the broom eventually, didn’t you? And you liked it!” James replied.

“Not as much as you do, but yes, I get your point. I faced my fears, flying is great, I know. Anyway, Professor Potter’s not a broom,” she joked.

“Shame about that, I do love a broomstick,” James joked, but it wasn’t one of his better ones.

“Are you nervous too?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t say nervous,” James replied. “I just want him to like me. I mean, he destroyed Voldemort and he knows things. I don’t want him thinking I’m just some stupid kid, you know?”

“I don’t think we’re too much younger than him,” Lily mused.

“Maybe not,” James said. “But you know, wizarding ages aren’t always easy to guess. My Mum’s Aunt looked 30 until the day she died of old age. She was on a steady routine of potions, charms, and polyjuicing into her younger self.”

“Huh,” Lily mused. “I didn’t know polyjuice could work that way.”

“It’s a specific variant of it, I don’t understand it, but you can write to my Dad to ask about if you want? He’ll know the answer,” James offered.

“I’ll just ask Sluggie, I don’t want your Dad thinking I’m obsessed with my looks,” Lily replied.

James nodded. “Very mature, Evans. You know I don’t just like you because you’re gorgeous, right?”

“Why else?” she fished, feeling oddly vulnerable.

“Because you’re so smart and funny and kind and aren’t afraid to tell me when I’m being an idiot,” James said, smiling at her softly.

“You’re not being an idiot now,” Lily offered, returning his smile as they arrived at Professor Potter’s quarters.

James waved at the portrait. “Can you tell the Professor that we’re here to see him?”

The man in the portrait yawned, and it swung open instantly. They climbed up, and the living quarters were decorated for company.

A little round table was in the middle of the room, with plates and candles, with a vase that felt like James’s magic in the middle of it, filled with blooming peonies.

The Professor stood up when they arrived, and Lily was gratified to see that he looked as nervous as she felt.

“Thanks for having us here,” James said, offering his hand for Professor Potter to shake.

The Professor looked at him for a second before taking the offered hand, and squeezing firmly. “Thanks for the invite.”

Lily offered her hand out for him to shake as well, swallowing the wild impulse inside of her that wanted to hug him. He was a Professor, for Merlin’s sake. “Thanks Professor,” she said.

“Nice to have you here Lily—since we’re not in class, do you mind calling me Harry?” he asked of her, his face looking so vulnerable for such a strong wizard.

“Sure, Harry,” Lily said, and then took a seat next to James across from him.

“I didn’t know what you two like to eat, so I asked the house elves to make us some roast chicken and potatoes with some salad if that’s fine?” Harry asked, while he poured some cold butterbeer into glasses for them.

“That sounds great Harry, I eat everything,” James replied.

“I do too,” she replied. “Except beets. I can’t stand them for whatever reason.”

“I don’t like them either,” Harry said. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Oh, yes. I’d have pudding before dinner if I could,” Lily admitted. “My sister used to tell me that all the sweets I was eating were giving me freckles so I gave up until I realised she was just making fun of me.”

“I like the freckles!” James said.

Lily shrugged. “They’re okay.”

Another strange look passed across Harry’s face. “Do you err---get on with your sister?”

Lily snorted, and pushed down the pain thinking of Petunia caused. “No. She thinks I’m a freak. She wasn’t pleased when she found out that I’m a witch.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “She might be jealous?”

“Or she just hates me,” Lily said, surprised at how honest she was being with the Professor, but something about being in his presence felt a little like home.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said to her.

“I don’t have any siblings, but always wished to have a brother,” James offered up after a moment, when the silence was starting to become awkward.

“Do your friends here at Hogwarts feel like your family?” Harry asked.

“I’m close with Remus Lupin—he’s in our class. And my other dorm mate, Peter Pettigrew and I get on quite well too,” James said.

“I know who he is,” Harry said mildly, but a dark expression flitted across his face for a second.

James opened his mouth to ask something else, but at the moment, Harry waved his wand and distracted them with food. Gorgeous plates of roast chicken and potatoes appeared, along with fresh, warm bread and green salad. It all looked and smelled amazing and reminded her of Sunday dinner with her grandparents.

“Do you mind if I go wash my hands before I eat? I know there’s charms that will do just as well, but I was just raised to wash before dinner and I’d like to do that now,” Lily asked.

“Of course I don’t mind,” Harry replied. “Open the door behind you and the toilet’s the room on the left.”

“Thank you,” she replied, and hurried over to the toilet. She did wash her hands—she wasn’t lying about that---but then she opened the little glass medicine cabinet above the sink. It was all fairly ordinary, a dreamless sleep potion, toothbrush, toothpaste, face wash, and aha! There it was. A little black comb. Lily picked it up and pulled a few pieces of hair out of it. Thank Merlin Harry was so messy. She put the hair down the front of her robes in her bra, a place where nobody would go looking and left the bathroom exactly as she found it. He wouldn’t notice a thing, and she only felt a little bit guilty.

She hurried back, where Harry and James were animatedly chatting about Gryffindor’s chances to win the Quidditch Cup this year. Neither of the boys had started eating, and she felt a little touched by their chivalry.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she said.

“Yeah, we did,” Harry and James said in unison.

“Thank you,” she replied, ignoring the oddness of how similar they were. Genetics could be funny things, she wished she could get someone in her family to send her some muggle science books.

“We were just talking about some of the plays I’ve come up with as captain,” James said to her. “Slytherin’s our only real competition, but as good as their beaters are, their chasing needs some work.”

“You’ll win this year,” Lily said. “Did you play Quidditch?”

“Seeker, yeah,” Harry replied, digging in eagerly to his meal.

James looked at him intensely. “Yeah, I can see it. You’ve got the build. Were you any good?”

“I was,” Harry said. “I didn’t play until I was at school, but always felt like flying was in my blood.”

“You’re a Potter, after all,” James said, and raised his glass of butterbeer to him.

Harry smiled, but his eyes looked a little glassy.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Lily asked, and going off pure instinct, she covered her hands with his.

He let her hold them for the briefest of moments before snatching his hands away. “Yes, thanks. It’s just---you know that I’m not from here? James just reminded me of someone that I lost for a second.”

“I’m sorry,” James replied, and cast a warming charm over the room, sending his own complementary magic mixing with Harry’s.

The whole room felt so cozy and safe, and Lily felt enchanted by the magic. It was something she had never quite known, belonging like this.

“Don’t be sorry,” Harry said. “So, I know how my first week of school went, but how did it go for you two?”

Lily took the subject change for the gift that it was and jumped in, sharing stories about their other NEWT-level classes.

“Yours was the best, of course,” James said after talking about their NEWT-transfiguration projects.

Harry rolled his eyes, but looked a little pleased.

“No, it’s true, you’ve seen things!” James added.

“I’m sure Minerva McGonagall has seen more than you give her credit for,” Harry said, but he looked pleased, and the rest of dinner passed in comfortable small talk.

After a double serving of Treacle Tart—Harry said it was his favourite!—he vanished the plates and stood up.

“As much as I would love to keep on chatting, I think you two should probably head back to Gryffindor Tower,” Harry said. “It’s what, near 10 PM?”

“It’s not even curfew!” James protested.

“And that doesn’t apply to us anymore anyway,” Lily protested. “But we’ve probably imposed on your time enough.”

“You’re not an imposition at all,” Harry said firmly, and walked them to the door. “Thanks for a really wonderful dinner.”

“Thanks for having us,” James said, and she watched as James threw his arms around Harry for a quick hug goodbye.

Harry stood stiff as a limpet for a moment before awkwardly returning it, patting James on the back before pulling away.

“Sorry! Sorry, I know that you’re our Professor, but you are family, and my magic told me to do that,” James explained, his face a little red.

Harry just shook his hand at the apology, and waved them off with a strange expression on his face.

“Dinner was good, right? Not too awkward, except for when I hugged him goodbye like he was my Dad or Uncle or something,” James muttered, running his hands through his hair, bouncing with nervous energy.

“It was good,” Lily agreed. “Harry didn’t seem to mind the hug. As long as you don’t do it in class.”

“Now that would be awkward,” James agreed.

“He still does seem like he’s hiding something though, right?” Lily asked.

“He’s probably hiding a lot, but that’s his right, isn’t it?” James said, raising his eyebrows.

“I suppose,” Lily replied. “But I got a few strands of hair from his comb, so the lineage potion will be a go in a month after the next moon.”

James grimaced. “You took them when you were washing your hands, yeah?”

She nodded.

“Normally I’d admire your commitment to mischief, but I’m still not sure we should violate his privacy like this,” James muttered.

“It’ll just be us who will see it,” she promised. “I won’t send it to the Daily Prophet or anything. We can keep a secret.”

“Okay,” James agreed. “As long as we don’t spread the information…”

“I won’t,” she promised, and distracted him by pulling him behind a tapestry for a kiss.

Something about the way he defended Harry made her want him even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has commented on this story. It makes me so pleased that people are enjoying it and motivates me to carry on. I hope you enjoyed seeing into Miss Lily's perspective here too.
> 
> No Sirius in this chapter, but lots of him in the next.  
> As ever, I love to chat in the comments.  
> Lots of love,  
> J!


	8. Chapter 8

Sirius was disappointed. Professor Potter wasn’t at the Head Table.

It wasn’t so strange, Professors not eating with students at the weekend, but he didn’t want to have to wait until Monday to see him.

He wasn’t here yesterday either.

“Mind your face,” Regulus muttered, helping himself to a piece of bacon off his place.

Sirius let him take it, and schooled his face back to neutral. A few moments later, a Potter came up to him, but not the one he wanted to see.

“Black,” James Potter said, with a cheeky little wave.

“Potter,” Sirius replied. “What brings you to the Slytherin table on this lovely Sunday morning?”

James rolled his eyes, and sat down next to him for a moment. “Mind if I take this pain au chocolat? I’m still hungry.”

“Help yourself,” Sirius muttered, watching as James delicately ripped a piece off and took a bite. He was beginning to attract attention, and he would, the very Gryffindor Head Boy pilfering pastries and exchanging pleasantries at the Slytherin table.

“Cheers,” James replied. “So, when are you free to start work on our Defense assignment? I know it’s due Friday, but was thinking we could get a head start today as I’ve got Quidditch practice Thursday.”

“That still leaves us all of next week,” Sirius mused.

“Yeah, but I’d like to make sure we ace this,” James replied.

“We will,” Sirius said. “We’ve been competing for the best marks for seven years now, there’s no way we’ll mess this up.

“In Transfigs and Defense yeah, but Lily’s been consistently better in Potions and sometimes Charms,” James pointed out, looking at him like he was bracing for a fight on behalf of his muggleborn girlfriend. 

“Evans is very talented, yeah,” he replied, forcing himself not to roll his eyes. He had no problem with her.

Potter’s shoulders relaxed. “Right. So, how’s after lunch work for you? We could meet at two in the library to get started on our reading?”

“Sure,” Sirius agreed. 

“I don’t want to sound like a swot, but let’s make sure we get an Outstanding on this?” James asked.

Sirius nodded. “We could probably wing it and still do fine in the practical…” he trailed off.

“But we don’t want Professor Potter to think we’re brilliant but lazy,” James finished. “It’s such a change having a competent defense professor.”

“I’d say you’re biased, but even if you are, he’s actually qualified to teach the subject,” Sirius joked.

“True on both counts,” James said, winking at him, before finishing off his pastry, and standing up. 

“See you at two?” Sirius asked.

“For sure, mate,” James said, clasping his shoulder briefly before heading back to the Gryffindor table.

Sirius watched him leave, and wondered what his life would have been like if he didn’t convince the Sorting Hat to chuck him in Slytherin. 

He rode the Hogwarts Express with James Potter and had more fun with him on that journey than he did his entire first year.

But after his sorting, he tried to be a good Slytherin, and that meant ignoring Potter. 

Sure, he passed him ingredients in Potions and occasionally caught his eye and smirked when Slughorn said something particularly obnoxious, but that was the longest conversation the pair of them had since they were eleven.

And he was nearly 18 now. Sirius sighed. It was worth it, he kept Regulus safe. 

Regulus poked him on his arm. “Brother, if you’re determined to be melancholy today, why not go out by the lake? It’s a beautiful day, and the sun might do you some good.”

“Fresh air and sun? I’m not a plant, Reg,” Sirius replied, but he gathered up his stuff anyway.

“You are growing like a weed,” Regulus joked, gesturing to him as he stood at his full height.

“Nah,” he replied, ruffling his baby brother’s hair. “You’re just short.”

Regulus glared at him. “I’m of perfectly average height!”

“Whatever you say,” Sirius snickered.

“Ugh, fine, see if I help you again,” Regulus said, waving him toward the door imperiously. 

“I don’t need your help!” Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, you do,” Regulus said. “Shoo!” 

Sirius rolled his eyes, and walked out the doors toward the grounds of the castle. And his brother was right, it was a beautiful day. The sun was bright, and he barely needed his cloak.   
There was a slight breeze in the air, promising the chill of autumn was right around the corner, but for now, it still felt like summer. Or as summer-y as Scotland could get.

He walked at a slow pace. It was still early, and no other students were out yet, all either at breakfast or sleeping in. He looked back at the castle, remembering how big it looked to him when him and James Potter first saw in the first-year boats. They grinned at each other, and Sirius thought he had maybe made his first friend.

Sirius kicked a pebble, and felt his magic call out to him. There he was. Harry Potter, sitting underneath the largest tree by the lake, reading a book, and munching on a bright red apple. The sun seemed to gleam off his golden-brown skin, and Sirius didn’t think he could look away if he tried.

Sirius sped up his steps, and walked up to him. “Morning!”

Harry closed his book, and looked up at him, a warm smile on his face. “Hey, Sirius. How are you?”

“Yeah, fine,” he replied. “It’s a beautiful day,” he said, feeling shallow bringing up as mundane of a subject as the weather.

“It is,” Harry said. “I love this time of year, it was my favourite as a kid.”

“Going back to school?” Sirius asked.

Harry nodded, and looked at the castle with something akin to love in his eyes.

“I like it too,” Sirius admitted. “So Potter—James that is, spoke to me earlier. We’re going to get started on your assignment later.”

“Yeah?” Harry replied, looking oddly smug. “I have full faith in the two of you.”

“I’m not afraid of your spelled Chimera!” Sirius said, grinning. 

“I wouldn’t think you would be,” Harry replied, and then patted the ground next to him. “Want to join me on the ground? I forgot to bring a blanket out with me, but my cushioning charm is decent.”

Sirius nodded, and sat down quickly, before Harry could change his mind. “Passable,” he joked, sinking in the soft green grass.

Harry smirked. 

“I’m just kidding, you know you’re powerful, the charm’s perfect,” Sirius replied.

“Power isn’t everything in magic,” Harry replied, in what Sirius had started to think of as his Professor voice.

“Yeah, I know, some of the more difficult transfigurations I’ve done require more finesse than force,” Sirius commented. 

“McGonagall has a lot of good things to say about you,” Harry said kindly.

“She should, I’m very talented,” Sirius joked. “Hey, can I tell you something? And you won’t repeat it?”

“You can tell me any of your secrets and I’ll keep them, though if I think you’re in danger or someone’s hurting you, I’ll have to act on it,” Harry said, his vibrant green eyes meeting his.

Sirius waved his hand. “It’s not like that. And besides, I can take care of myself, I’ve had to for a long time.”

Harry nodded, as if he understood.

“Professor McGonagall said she’s willing to teach me the Animagus transformation next term if I can prove that I can master the meditative part of the process,” Sirius confessed.

“That’s amazing!” Harry said, smiling at him with an oddly misty look in his eye.

“She offered it to James Potter too, but he said he had too much on, what with Head Boy duties and Quidditch,” Sirius explained.

“Hmm,” Harry said, looking supremely suspicious.

“What is it?” Sirius asked. “And don’t say nothing. That look on your face clearly says something!”

“I have a theory,” Harry replied. “And it’s probably rubbish and I don’t think it’s fair to share it right now.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius said, pleased that Harry didn’t insult his intelligence by lying to him. 

“When you master the transformation, I’d like to see it,” Harry. 

“It might not even be this year,” Sirius said, but he felt so warmed by Harry’s belief in him. “Did you ever learn the transformation?”

Harry shook his head. “I was never that talented in Transfiguration. I thought one day, perhaps, my godfather could teach me, but he died before I could learn that from him.”

Sirius felt Harry’s grief, palpable and thick in the air, and placed his hand over his, squeezing gently.

Harry let him, and squeezed his fingers around his. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sirius asked, setting off little golden sparks with his fingers. They didn’t burn Harry, instead, dancing across his skin.

Harry watched the sparks dance, and shook his head. “I’m the reason he’s dead, and I don’t deserve to feel better about it. Hey, how do you do the sparks without a wand?”

“It’s a variation of favillae, all you have to do is think about it and draw the energy from your core, it’s not difficult,” Sirius explained, his heart breaking at the forlorn expression on Harry’s face.

“Right,” Harry said, furrowing his brow for a second before burgundy sparks appeared over their joined hands, arranging themselves in the shape of Canis Major.

“That’s me,” Sirius said, marveling at the way Harry’s magic warmed him up from the inside. “And you did that on your first try, unfair!”

Harry laughed, but the sound was a little broken. 

“That’s you,” he confirmed.

“How come you made me in Gryffindor colours?” Sirius joked as the constellation glowed burgundy and gold.

“It seemed to fit,” Harry said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Sirius said with a wink, before waving his hand and turning the constellation green. “I never quite thought green was my colour anyway.”

“You pull it off,” Harry said, his face turning red after a moment, and he looked horrified as a realisation dawned on his face.“Am I overstepping? Casting magic around you like this again?”

Sirius shook his head. “I started it, casting the sparks first. I felt your sadness, and I wanted to help, this isn’t…anything else.”

“It did help,” Harry admitted. “Thank you, Sirius.”

“Anytime,” Sirius offered. And feeling bold he offered, “anything.”

Harry let go of his hand as if he was burned. “You shouldn’t make promises like that to people.”

“You’re not people,” Sirius responded. “My magic trusts you, and we wouldn’t be complementary if you wanted to hurt me. I trust my instincts!”

Harry gathered his books, and stood up. “Your instincts aren’t always right!”

“It sounds like you’re projecting!” Sirius shot back, unsure why Harry’s mood had flipped so quickly.

“I might be,” Harry admitted. “You remind me of someone else.”

“Someone with terrible instincts?” Sirius asked, insulted.

“No. He was a good person, who I loved, but he trusted the wrong person and paid dearly because of it,” Harry replied, and Sirius could feel his conflict and pain and years-buried hurt.

“Are you saying you’re untrustworthy?” Sirius said, raising his voice.

“No! No!” Harry said, ruffling his hair in an oddly familiar way. “But you can’t just decide that I am, Sirius. I’m your professor. You don’t know me.”

“And you don’t know me either, but your magic thinks I’m alright,” Sirius said, shrugging off the offense.

“You’re a menace, is what you are,” Harry said, but his voice was fond. “Let me know how you get on with James later?”

“You’ll see in class, when we beat your Chimera in record time,” Sirius boasted.

Harry smiled, and Sirius knew that for once, he actually said the right thing.


	9. Chapter 9

Sirius got to the library a bit after two, and to his surprise, Potter was already there, surrounded by a giant stack of books about magical creatures.

“I didn’t know you knew where the library was, Potter,” Sirius joked as he slid down in the seat next to Potter.

James rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing in this castle I don’t know about, Black.”

“The Slytherin common room?” Sirius asked.

“Been there, done that. It's in the dungeons of course, it's got a nice view of the lake, though it is truly a bit cold for my tastes,” James replied, his long nose buried in a book.

Sirius grinned. “We all learned warming charms early. It’s not as cosy as Gryffindor Tower of course, but better quality furniture.”

James snapped the book shut and finally looked at him. “How do you know?”

Sirius shrugged. “You have your secrets, I have mine.”

James’s eyes narrowed.

“Relax, I only got in past the Fat Lady’s portrait just to prove I could, it’s not like I went around stealing things from your dormitory,” Sirius said. “I got a bit bored before the OWLS.”

James relaxed. “I stole a quill from your common room, but that was just to prove to Remus and Peter that I actually got in.”

“The quill could have been from anywhere!” Sirius pointed out.

“Ah, but it was Lucius Malfoy’s white quill from his little peacocks,” James replied, with a mischievous grin.

Sirius snickered. “That was what, our second year? He was in a mood for weeks! That was you?!”

James nodded.

“Well-done, I can’t stand him,” Sirius muttered.

James smiled. “He’s a prick. Anyway, chimeras. The most difficult thing is the fire-breath, right?

“Or the snake-head tail,” Sirius pointed out. “If we just focus on the lion’s head, we risk being bit by that.”

“Well, there are two of us. One to take on each, I suppose. Multiple stunners and freezing charms are probably effective,” James wondered.

“They’re not immune to magic, no,” Sirius agreed. “We’d have to work on casting at the exact same moment to overpower the stunners, though. Anything simple wouldn’t work for long.”

“Good point,” James said, and started scribbling something down with his quill. “And we’d need to shield ourselves first, I don’t want to become toast.”

“Getting burned wasn’t on my 7th year to-do list either,” Sirius joked.

James smiled. “You are alright, aren’t you Black?”

“Better than alright,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

James rolled his eyes. “Harry could have picked worse than you for me to partner with, and that’s the best compliment you’ll get from me.”

“Harry, is it?” Sirius asked, leaning his chair back, balancing on the rear legs.

James met his eyes. “He’s family.”

“Technically, so are we, I think you’re my third cousin second removed.” Sirius pointed out. “We might be as related as you and Harry.”

“He’s a Potter,” James replied. “He’s family. My magic knows it.”

“Your magic?” Sirius asked, trying to sound disinterested and failing.

James looked older than he was, and nodded. “He’s my family, and my magic knows it, alright? Anything else is none of your business, Black.”

Sirius wanted to protest that it was his business, actually. That his magic knew Harry too, that he was gifted to him, that Harry touched his hand while he was casting and he had never felt more complete. But instead, he just nodded, and got back to work. He hadn’t made it this far in Slytherin by letting his emotions get the best of him.

They worked together easily for the rest of the evening, and Sirius crept down back to the dungeons late that evening feeling something strange like hope bubbling up in his gut.

He wasn’t a seer, and unlike his brother, rarely remembered his dreams.

But he woke up, and remembered everything.

  
_He was lying in Harry’s lap, and Harry was playing with the silky strands of Sirius’s hair._

_“Mm, that’s nice,” Sirius replied, fluttering his eyes closed._

_“Are you still in pain, darling?” Harry asked._

_“No,” Sirius lied._

_Harry stilled his hand. “Don’t lie to me.”_

_“It’s manageable,” Sirius admitted, a dull ache still burning through his body. “I feel better than Bellatrix does, at least, you blasted her into a million pieces. ”_

_Harry resumed his petting. “I couldn’t lose you again. I couldn’t.”_

_“Magic gave us to each other, Harry,” he sighed. “I’m not going anywhere. Get it through your thick skull. I'm yours, alright?”_

Sirius woke up and still felt the phantom press of Harry’s gentle fingers against his scalp.  
\-----------

Harry dreamed of Sirius that evening too. His Sirius, the Gryffindor, the godfather. He was flying with him, on his motorbike, his arms wrapped around his midsection.

He smelled like woodsmoke and firewhiskey, and he was laughing loudly as Harry urged them to go higher, faster.

Harry woke up and his cheeks were wet, and he looked down. He was hard.

“Pull yourself together, Potter,” he said to himself and his traitorous cock. He ignored it, silencing the little voice in the back of his mind that said whatever Sirius was, godfather or student, he was beautiful.

Harry took a shower and got dressed, not letting himself fall back into fantasies. He avoided the Great Hall, spending the breakfast hour in his rom instead.

“I’m a coward, aren’t I, Padfoot?” he said to the little toy dog Sirius had charmed for him.

The dog barked at him, in an assent.

“Fair enough,” Harry replied, feeling like he was truly losing his mind. “Now I’ve got to go teach some eleven year olds who barely know what end of their wand to hold.”

The dog barked back at him, and Harry felt himself smile, despite everything. He startled when he felt a knock at his door, but somehow knew that it wasn’t Sirius or James. His magic had adapted remarkably to this universe, he wondered what Hermione would make of that.

“Come on in,” Harry yelled, and smiled when Dumbledore made his way in. Albus was wearing bright purple robes, with little paisley patterns embroidered on them. His Dumbledore had the same set.

“I come bearing bacon sandwiches,” Albus said, plate in hand. “I had noticed that you missed breakfast, and we can’t have you starting your second week of classes without eating. The first week can be stressful, but the second week is when routines and the real work set in. It’s a challenge unto itself.”

“I can grab my own food if I need it,” Harry replied. “But thank you, Albus.”

“In truth, I just wanted to see how you were. I know I’ve asked quite a lot of you to teach here, and we’ve not spoken since you told me of your faux paus with young Mr. Black,” he said kindly.

Harry accepted a bacon sandwich, and took a bite, giving him time to think. “Hogwarts is wonderful, and I like teaching,” he said honestly.

“And your ghosts aren’t hurting your soul? I did know it’d be tough to see the people you lost as students instead of the adults you knew, but I assumed it’d be more helpful than harmful. But if I was wrong, I have enough time to take over your NEWT class, I can give some duties to Minerva,” Dumbledore offered kindly.

Harry shook his head. “I’m enjoying the NEWT class. It does hurt, Professor. But it’d hurt more to not see them now, I think.”

“I understand,” he said.

“I mean, I doubt you do, sir,” Harry said, as respectfully as he could. “My situation, is a bit….”

“Unique, to be sure,” Dumbledore finished, conjuring a napkin, and handing to Harry.

Harry wiped some crumbs away from his face, and nodded.

“I spoke with my sister yesterday, I didn’t give her all the details, but she accused me of forcing you into a situation that might hurt you just because I thought it would be beneficial for you make more permanent ties here,” Dumbledore admitted, sitting down on Harry’s sofa. “Ariana has a way of telling me when I can be overbearing or meddling. And I suspect I have been.”

“You didn’t force me into anything,” Harry said. “It’s fine. And Professor, you realise that you’re one of my ghosts too, right? But I like seeing you, even though I was there when you died.”

Albus touched his shoulder. “I know. But I of course, am not a young, handsome man who has been granted the gift to share your magic. Our souls will not touch with complentary flames. Unlike a certain Slytherin.”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, pained. “Sirius is my student.”

“He’s of age, and won’t be your student forever. And I’m willing to instruct him in his NEWT coursework privately, if I need to.”

Harry’s head hurt. “Albus, are you offering to teach Sirius if I become…”

“Emotionally or physically compromised with your complementary magic partner, yes,” he said, peering at him over the rim of his half-moon glasses.

“You’re meddling again, Albus, please stop,” Harry pointed out, his cheeks feeling uncomfortably warm. “He’s my student, despite whatever magic thing keeps happening.”

“Sure,” Albus said, standing up. “I trust your judgement, and I trust magic itself to not give you burdens you can’t bear.”

Harry shoved the rest of his bacon sandwich in his mouth. This conversation could not be over soon enough. 

“Make sure and chew carefully, Harry, it wouldn’t do if Voldemort couldn’t kill you, but choking on your food did instead.”

Harry rolled his eyes and waved Dumbledore out. This Dumbledore was truly as meddling as the one he knew, but his offer was one he would never need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a very long time! Sorry, friends. Hope you're still interested. Lots of love, J.
> 
> Always happy to chat in the comments!


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